


Temperance

by glitterandgin



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Arl Howe is a dick, But we all knew that, Canon-Typical Violence, Homophobia, M/M, Romance, nanders - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-08 11:32:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3207629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterandgin/pseuds/glitterandgin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathaniel Howe counted on many things during his quest to earn his inheritance--danger, maybe even dismemberment--but he'd certainly never expected a runaway mage to join him and challenge everything he thought he knew. A romance set in a vaguely fairy tale AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Temperance: The right thing at the right place at the right time."  
> 

“Andraste’s twisted knickers,” Anders grumbled as he tripped over what felt like the thousandth boulder in thirty minutes. He’d already given up on picking bits of twigs and leaves out of his hair, and he was certain he’d have to buy new robes once he got out of the blighted forest. _If_ he got out of the blighted forest, a mean-spirited voice in the back of his mind corrected. He mentally glared it into silence. This would be hard enough without doubting his every step. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about the Templars for a while. With any luck, they’d forget to come up for air while they combed the bottom of the lake for signs of him.

  
He was bruised, soaking wet, and his side ached from running, but he was free. His heart felt like it would explode from joy at the thought of that word. Free. The future, once as bleak and stifling as Kinloch Hold’s walls, now stretched ahead of him like the vast fields he’d only dreamed of since he’d been taken from his family.

  
Something rustled in the large bushes ahead of him, and, in his infinite worldliness and level-headedness, he certainly did not yelp before fumbling for his staff. Were there bears in these woods? He was certain he could handle one, but he wanted to save his mana. Maker knew when he’d be able to get his hands on lyrium potions. The bushes rustled again.

  
He dropped into a crouch, staff pointed ahead of him. His mana would eventually regenerate, but the chances of him regenerating after a bear bit his head off were unlikely.  


“Come on, then,” he muttered, ignoring the slight tremor in his voice.  


“Your stance is wrong,” a voice said behind him.  


For the second time that day, Anders did _not_ yelp. He definitely didn’t flail and drop his staff. He spun to face the voice’s owner, glaring.  


He appeared close to Anders’s age, with a face far too young to look so insufferably smug. He had a small patch of black hair under his lip, which he’d obviously grown in an attempt to make himself look more mature, and a bow was slung across his back. Anders rolled his eyes, if only to hide the fact that he was staring.  


“Thank you for your input, but I think I know what I’m doing,” he said, turning to retrieve his staff.  


“Oh, you clearly do. You had the perfect stance if you wanted to get knocked on your arse before you were killed,” the man retorted. “Anyway, you’re wasting your energy. It’s just a bird.”  


The bushes rustled again, this time more violently.  


“Awfully big bird, from the sound of it,” Anders said drily. He glanced over at the man, who’d tensed and straightened his posture. As far as Anders was concerned, his crouch was a lot more useful for a fight.  


Before Anders could comment on his stance, a bear burst out from the bushes. It was nothing like the ones Anders had seen in books. While those had clearly been larger than the humans rendered in the illustrations, the artist had failed to capture the fact that said largeness was the result of muscles capable of ripping an arm off without the slightest fatigue. And then there was the smell. It was strong enough that it seemed to create an impenetrable field around the bear. Anders gulped.  


The stranger had already drawn his bow and nocked an arrow. He muttered, “I suggest you run, unless you’d planned on being disembowelled today.” With that, he fired the arrow.  


Miraculously, the arrow managed to penetrate both the shield of stench and the bear’s flesh. The bear was less impressed than Anders was by this outcome. It roared and charged, all muscle and fury. Anders and the stranger fled in opposite directions, giving them a slight advantage as the bear tried to decide which one of them to pursue. While it considered this, Anders shot a cone of ice at it. The stranger took advantage of the bear’s temporary immobility and fired several arrows at it. While these undoubtedly did damage, they had the unfortunate side effect of incensing the bear to the point where it was able to break through the ice encasing it. It ran towards the stranger, who bolted in Anders’s direction.  


“Don’t lead it to me!” Anders said as he ran away from the man.  


“Would you prefer I die, leaving you to fight it alone?” the man said as he continued to fire upon the bear.  


Anders racked his brain for useful spells. While there’d been a certain pressure to perform well in the tower, none of his instructors had ever threatened him with claws and teeth. There was an idea, he thought as he cast a paralyzing spell on the bear, followed by a few bolts from his staff. His heart was racing, and every fibre of his being screamed that he should run while he could. Before his common sense and conscience could begin a battle, however, the stranger loosed an arrow, which entered the bear’s eye with a squelch. The noise alone made Anders want to retch. The bear roared one last time before it collapsed.  


“If you say one thing involving the word ‘bird’, I will personally feed you to the next bear we encounter,” the man said as he slung his bow across his back once more.  


“Me? I wouldn’t dream of it,” Anders said with a breathless laugh. While he still harboured irritation from the man’s method of introducing himself, their victory against the bear had left him giddy. He laughed again, the sound filled with joy and residual terror from his encounter. He continued laughing, the sound morphing into sobs born of the realisation that he might have got in over his head. When he collected himself, he said, “Thank you for… that.”  


“I should thank you for not running,” the man said with what could have been a smile if Anders was being incredibly generous.  


“Believe me, I considered it.” Anders said as he approached the man, offering his hand. “I’m Anders.”  


The man stared at him as though he’d tried to hand him a pile of nug shit. After what seemed like an eternity, he took Anders’s hand and shook it. “Nathaniel.”  


He knew he shouldn’t do it. The oft-ignored rational part of his brain, which he ignored with a particular glee because it sounded suspiciously like First Enchanter Irving, told him not to. But he couldn’t help himself. He said, “Are there many _birds_ in these woods?”  


Nathaniel gave him a look more withering than the summer sun before turning and walking away. “Goodbye.”  


“Wait,” Anders called after him. He couldn’t help but grimace as he said, “I’m afraid I might be a little lost, and I was wondering if you could help me reach an area that’s a little less brown. And you have to admit, we made a pretty good team.”  


Nathaniel stopped in his tracks and crossed his arms. “Very well. But if you say one more thing about ‘birds’…”  


“Oh, never,” Anders said in a tone so sincere it sounded sarcastic. “Now, let’s get out of here before something else decides it’d like to eat us.”  


Nathaniel led the way in silence until he said, “You’re a mage.”  


“Am I? I hadn’t noticed. I’d always thought I was a giant spider,” Anders said, trying to quash the panic that surged through him. He should have just run. It was foolish to use his magic around a stranger; now he’d be taken back to the tower and he’d only just escaped and—  


“I wasn’t aware mages were allowed outside of their Circles.”  


“Oh, of course we are. It’s for special magey business. Very important. Secret, too.”  


“Right,” Nathaniel said, clearly sceptical. “I could report you to the Templars, you know.”  


Anders jogged to match Nathaniel’s pace and grabbed his arm. “All right, I might be a little bit of an apostate. But you can’t take me back to the tower. They might literally kill me.”  


“You probably should have thought of that before you left the tower,” Nathaniel said, shaking his arm free of Anders’s grasp.  


“Easy for you to say,” Anders muttered. “You’ve never been trapped in one. Is it really so terrible to want to have some control over your life? But try telling them that, and they’ll insist you’re an abomination.”  


“And how am I to know that you aren’t one?”  


“Well, for one thing, I’ve only killed and devoured two people this week. That’s not anywhere near an abomination’s quota,” Anders said with a wry smile. “I also pride myself on being better groomed than an abomination. I drool less, too.”  


“Nobody likes a smart-mouth, mage,” Nathaniel said. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t tell the Templars you’ve escaped.”  


“Besides the fact that they saw me escape?” Anders sighed. “I just want a chance to see life outside the tower. Is that so bad? And if that doesn’t convince you, I did help save your life.”  


Nathaniel ran his hands over his face. “Maker help me,” he muttered. “I won’t turn you in just yet. But I’m keeping an eye on you, mage.”  


“And here I was starting to get nostalgic for being constantly watched,” Anders said brightly. “Come on, then. The Templars are probably already looking for me, and believe me—you don’t want to get caught up in that.”  


With that, they resumed walking. And if Anders was a little grateful he’d run into Nathaniel, he’d certainly never tell his dour companion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my dear friend, Kari, and to everyone who's been reading it so far. You're all amazing.

Anders managed to withstand two minutes of silence before the words bubbled out of his mouth. “So, what are you doing out here? Do you live nearby? Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”

“Are all mages this talkative?” Nathaniel said with a sniff. Anders had a feeling Nathaniel didn’t suffer from allergies.

“Only the charming ones,” Anders said, preening for effect. It was somewhat lessened by the fact that the bottom half of his robes was already caked with mud. “Of course, you’d have a chance to learn that if we were actually allowed out of our towers. And you didn’t answer my questions.”

Nathaniel ran his fingers across his scalp. Anders tried to ignore the way the sunlight shimmered in his glossy black hair. There was no sense getting infatuated with someone who’d only expressed vague dislike for mages. Nathaniel said, “I’m on a quest, and my home is in Amaranthine.”

“I hope you realise I have no clue where Amaranthine is,” Anders said, stumbling over a twig. He’d become spoiled by the abundance of flat surfaces in the tower. “Are we going there right now?”

“No,” Nathaniel said tersely. “We’re going to kill a dragon in the Brecilian Forest.”

Anders burst out laughing. He continued long past the acceptable time limit for laughter and only stopped when he became lightheaded. Wiping tears from his eyes, “Oh, Maker. That’s brilliant. And here I thought you’d had your sense of humour removed by a healer.”

“I’m not joking, mage,” Nathaniel said. “I’m going to slay a dragon.”

“With your bow and arrow,” Anders said, struggling to keep the mirth from his voice.

“No, with my amazing musical skills.”

“I’d like to see that,” Anders said. As they lapsed into silence once more, he said, “Why do you need to slay a dragon?”

“It devoured my family when I was but a lad.”

“You’re joking.” Anders couldn’t help but grin as he repeated, “Maker, you’re joking!”

“Obviously,” Nathaniel said with a slight smile. He sighed. “It’s one of the requirements for me to earn my inheritance. I’ve brought… considerable shame upon my family, and my father thinks this a fitting requirement for me to reclaim my place as his eldest son.”

Anders whistled. “What’d you do, burn down an entire town?”

“That’s my business,” Nathaniel said in a voice like a funeral pyre.

“All right, then. I was just trying to make conversation. Surely you don’t plan to sulk the entire trip,” Anders said. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“We’re stopping in a small town nearby. I need to buy more arrows, and someone there might be able to direct me to the dragon.”

“Or some tea to help you sing the dragon to death,” Anders teased. “A lute, perhaps.”

It almost sounded like Nathaniel chuckled at that. Anders allowed himself a grin.

 To Anders’s relief, the town wasn’t far at all. It barely seemed large enough to qualify as a town, but if he were being completely honest with himself, his memory of such things was a little hazy. He couldn’t quell the surge of joy that came when he noted a pub nearby. He’d heard good things about those.

Nathaniel had already made a beeline towards a dully practical smith. While Anders desperately wanted to investigate the pub, he knew his best bet of having a drink there relied on Nathaniel’s good graces. He followed Nathaniel.

Once Nathaniel had finished haggling with the smith, Anders tugged on his sleeve. “Can we go in the pub? I’m sure there are plenty of locals dying to give us information about dragons.”

Nathaniel pursed his lips, but finally nodded. “You may be right. But first we need to find you something a little less conspicuous.”

* * *

 

“You can’t be serious,” Nathaniel said as Anders emerged in his new robes. “Please tell me the shopkeeper allows refunds.”

“What’s wrong with these?” Anders said, toying with the skirt of his robes. “I think they’re rather fetching.”

“They look Tevinter. And they have,” he said, pausing as though physically repulsed by the phrase, “furry pauldrons. You’re supposed to look inconspicuous; this will draw the attention of every Templar we see.”

“We’ll just pretend I’m from the Imperium, then,” Anders said with an easy smile. “Believe me, the only other remotely good piece of clothing they had in there was this helmet with wings on it. If you want, I can see if she’ll let me exchange these for that…”

“Maker, no,” Nathaniel said with an expression that said he was desperately trying not to imagine that outcome. “We’ll stick with the robes. At least tell me you haggled for them.”

“I… kind of forgot,” Anders said. “But they didn’t cost much. Just a few of those gold coins you gave me.”

Nathaniel’s hands twitched. “Just count yourself lucky I’ll be getting my inheritance soon. Let’s go to the pub before you spend any more of my money.”

“Does that mean you’re buying the drinks, then?”

Nathaniel spun on his heel and strode to the pub. Anders snorted before trailing after him.

The Frightening Deer, so named for the owner’s inability to paint a deer that wouldn’t give viewers nightmares, seemed to have been constructed by drunks. It had six walls, four of which were concave. In an attempt to mitigate their unsettling effect, the owner, Denton, had painted each wall a different eye-searing colour: fuchsia, orange, green, vomit yellow, red, and a blue so bright it could have been used to remove cataracts. If nothing else, the interior decoration had made Denton an impressive sum of money as the patrons attempted to drink away the horror.

“What do you recommend?” Anders said, eyeing the barkeep eagerly.

“I recommend you keep your wits about you, mage,” Nathaniel said. “I have no wish to spend my time baby-sitting a drunk apostate.”

“You’re no fun at all. How about a deal—I get information about the dragon, and you’ll buy me a drink,” Anders said with his most charming smile, the one that had gained him the attentions of several apprentices back in Kinloch Hold.

Nathaniel smirked. “Very well. Good luck.”

Anders scanned the pub for a promising patron. After passing over a bald man with a moustache and a hook for a hand, he settled on a dwarf with bright red hair. The dwarf was surrounded by empty tankards, which gave Anders hope that the alcohol would make him talkative.

Anders sauntered up to the dwarf, desperately trying to ignore the pervasive medley of alcohol and less-pleasant smells. Before he had a chance to say anything, the dwarf said, “Sod off, skirts. I don’t want any of what you’re selling.”

Anders blinked and cleared his throat. His smile took on a forced quality. “Actually, I was wondering if you knew anything about a dragon in the Brecilian Forest.”

“I might,” the dwarf said, draining his current tankard. He belched. “Then again, you could stuff your questions where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“Where’s that?”

“The Deep Roads, probably. Never saw any sun there.” He gestured for another tankard of ale.

“But _do_ you know anything about the dragon?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Anders rolled his eyes. “No, I was just asking to make conversation.”

The dwarf leered, though it was hard to tell if it was directed at the new tankard of ale or the serving boy who brought it. Anders was struck by an idea, the sort so brilliant he was amazed it had come to him while he was sober.

“You know something about the dragon,” he said.

“Maybe,” the dwarf said to his new tankard.

“You know something, otherwise you would have said “no” just to make me go away. I have an idea. Why don’t we have a drinking contest? If I win, you’ll tell me what you know.”

“And if I win?” the dwarf said, his eyes gleaming.

“I’ll pay for all your drinks. Even the ones you had before I got here,” Anders said, spreading his hands in a gesture of magnanimity.

“You’re on, skirts.”

With that, Anders gestured for a tankard of ale.

Anders had never truly had experience with alcohol, unless you counted the occasional sips of wine his mother would give him at dinner. Back in the tower, he’d started a rumour about Irving’s secret liquor stash being hidden in the back of the stockroom. He’d done so while Irving was present in hopes that he could trick him into revealing the true location of the stash he obviously had, but it hadn’t worked. Instead of the aged Antivan brandy he’d dreamed of, he got a stern talking-to about Andraste’s opinion of liars.

He took a tentative gulp of the ale and gagged. In between coughs he said, “Maker’s breath, how do you drink this shit?”

The dwarf guffawed. There weren’t many times when Anders had had a reason to think of the word “guffaw”, but this was one of them. Even the dwarf’s laugh sounded dirty. He said, “Giving up already?”

“You wish,” Anders said before taking another swig. This time he didn’t cough, spurring him to take another drink, and then another.  He was so intent on finishing his ale that he didn’t notice Nathaniel creep up behind him.

“Mage,” Nathaniel said. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting information about the dragon,” Anders said a little too loudly as he smiled a little too widely. The corners of his vision were becoming fuzzy, and he felt his mana glowing inside of him. “This is my-my-my new friend, er…”

“Oghren,” the dwarf supplied.

“He’s going to give me information about the dragon when I beat him in the contest.”

“I think you’re done here,” Nathaniel said in a tone like dry kindling.

Oghren snorted, spilling ale onto his braided moustaches. “Looks like your husband doesn’t approve.”

Nathaniel’s face turned bright red.

“I can’t stop now,” Anders pleaded. “If I do, we have to pay for all his drinks.”

The colour disappeared from Nathaniel’s face. “You jest.”

“You wish,” Oghren said with another laugh.

“Drink away, mage,” Nathaniel said, scowling. He stalked off to a chair in the corner of the pub.

“Right,” Anders said brightly. “Where were we?”

The second tankard of ale went down much easier. Oghren almost seemed sociable, even.

“Why d’ya wanna find some sodding dragon, anyway?” Oghren said with a belch.

“We’ve gotta slay it. It’s a matter of… of something important,” Anders said, nodding along with his own words.

“Good luck. You’ll need it. I heard the bugger ate an entire clan of elves. Didn’t even spit their bones out. It’s off in some blighted cave near a bunch of ruins,” Oghren said as he polished off his ale.

By the third tankard, Anders wasn’t sure he had feet anymore. If he did, they weren’t obeying his commands. The room was spinning, a fact made all the more horrible by the multi-coloured walls. He’d been lying on the scuffed floor for five minutes, and it looked like he was going to stay there.

A pair of booted feet stopped by his head before one foot nudged his shoulder none-too-gently. “Get up, mage. I’ve paid for his blighted drinks. We’re leaving this town before you completely impoverish my family.”

Anders found himself manhandled into a standing position with one arm draped over Nathaniel’s shoulders. Nathaniel smelled amazing, like leather and fine soaps. Anders leaned on Nathaniel a little more and smiled. He’d have to get drunk more often, especially if this was the outcome.

As Nathaniel half-led, half-dragged him into another forest, Anders found himself wondering if Nathaniel’s lips were as soft as they looked and what he could do to find out.


	3. Chapter 3

“Like, there’s nothing wrong with trees. Trees are great. They do important… treeish things. But do there have to be so _many_ of them?” Anders said as he slung his other arm around Nathaniel’s neck. He was now walking in a strange sideways shuffle as he attempted to wrap himself around Nathaniel like ivy around a building.

“There wouldn’t seem to be so many of them if you didn’t insist on running into each one we pass,” Nathaniel replied, attempting to shrug Anders off of him. He stopped in his tracks and stiffened. “ _What_ are you doing?”

Anders had begun pressing light kisses to Nathaniel’s neck as he walked, a task which occupied his mind so fully that Nathaniel had to repeat the question. Anders stopped, but kept his arms draped around Nathaniel’s neck. “Uh… nothing?”

“Really.”

Anders wasn’t sure if the warmth that rushed to his face was a product of the alcohol or of getting caught. He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I just thought…”

Nathaniel snorted. “This should be stimulating.”

“Never mind,” Anders said, pressing his face into Nathaniel’s shoulder. He brightened almost immediately. “You owe me a drink.”

“In what reality?”

Was it his imagination, or had Nathaniel relaxed slightly?

“You,” he said, and enjoyed the taste of the word so much that he decided to repeat it, “You. You. You-you-you. You said you’d buy me a drink if I got infer--infro—stuff about the dragon. And I did. I got _so_ much stuff. So you owe me a drink.”

“Haven’t you had enough to drink?”

“I want a drink from _you_ ,” Anders said with a pout.

“We’ll talk about this when you’re sober,” Nathaniel said. “In fact, I think right now it would be best if you kept your thoughts—and lips—to yourself.”

Anders nodded and released Nathaniel. He attempted to circumnavigate a tree in his path, leaned too far to the right, overcorrected himself, and ran into a different tree. He staggered and nearly ran into Nathaniel.

Nathaniel grabbed his torso. “Wrap your arms around me again,” he said. After a significant pause he added, “The last thing we need is for you to knock yourself out.”

Anders did so with a little more enthusiasm than strictly necessary. It took all his willpower to refrain from kissing Nathaniel’s neck again. They walked that way, Anders draped over Nathaniel like a contented housecat. It was only when Nathaniel guided them to face the direction they’d just come from that Anders wondered if something was wrong.

“Don’t. Say. A word,” Nathaniel hissed.

“Why--?”

“What did I just say?” Nathaniel said, guiding Anders so he stood slightly in front of the mage. “Before you ask, we’re not lost.”

“Of course we’re not,” Anders said, resting his chin on Nathaniel’s shoulder. “Are we going to set up camp soon? I’m tired.”

Nathaniel seemed poised to argue, but said, “I’ll pitch the tent. You sit in that spot and don’t touch anything.”

“Whatever you say, Nate,” Anders said, relinquishing his hold on Nathaniel once more and slumping to the ground.

“Don’t call me that.”

Anders felt something hard press between his shoulder blades. He turned around and gasped. An elven woman, a Dalish if her facial tattoos were anything to go by, stood behind him, the tip of her staff poking into his back.

She whispered, “Don’t call for help.”

“Ah, Nate?” Anders said. That was all he managed to say before her staff smacked his temple. His vision swam, and he fell onto his side.

Nathaniel spun around. “What did I just— _let him go_.”

“Don’t come any closer,” the elf said, pointing the tip of her staff at Anders.

“Let him go,” Nathaniel repeated. The smack must have been harder than Anders thought; it almost sounded like Nathaniel was worried about him. Nathaniel drew his bow.

“No need to fight over me,” Anders slurred. “’s plenty to go ‘round.”

“Shut up, mage,” Nathaniel and the elf said in unison.

“What are you doing in this forest?” the elf said.

“Getting lost, mostly,” Anders said before remembering that there was a staff levelled at him.

“And what business do you have with the Dalish?” she said, her voice growing as hard as the root that pressed into Anders’s side.

“We have none,” Nathaniel said with the haughtiness taught by only the most expensive tutors.

“And you expect me to believe that?”

“What business would we have with the Dalish?” Nathaniel said, fingers tensing around his bow.

“Why else would you have come so close to our camp?”

“Do the Dalish understand the word ‘accident’?”

“We have a different word for it— _shemlen_.”

Anders wondered if he’d been concussed, or if the conversation really was just going around in circles. What would happen if he tried to move away from her? His stomach protested at the idea of motion, and he fought back a gag.

Nathaniel sighed but didn’t lower his bow. “We mean no harm to the Dalish. We got lost in the woods, and we were about to set up camp for the night. Let my companion go, and we promise not to bother your clan.”

The elf sniffed. “A likely story. I’d like to see what the Keeper thinks of this.”

She shouted something in elven, and a group of Dalish surrounded Nathaniel and Anders.

Anders knew he should be worried. The little corner of sobriety left in his brain was screaming its head off, but he still felt warm from the alcohol and Nathaniel’s touch, so he let himself be manhandled into a standing position without much fuss. They were guided several yards away to the Dalish camp.

Anders had never seen so many elves in one place. There had been elves in the tower, of course, but their race had been diminished by the fact that they were mages. Here, the elves utterly embraced their race with a defiance that shocked and impressed him. Tents almost as large as houses were set up in the clearing, and a collection of wooden benches was placed in a circular formation around the roaring fire. They walked to a tent near the centre of the encampment, where an elderly elf stood.

“Andaran atish’an,” the woman, ostensibly the Keeper, said. “Velanna, I assume this was your doing. Why have you brought these shemlen here?”

The elf, Velanna, nodded brusquely. “I found them wandering near our camp. I thought they wished harm on us, Keeper.”

“And so you brought them to us,” the Keeper said. Her voice sounded like autumn leaves. Anders wished she’d keep talking, but she pronounced each word like it physically pained her. The Keeper turned to Anders and Nathaniel. “What business do you have with us?”

“None, until you abducted us and dragged us here,” Anders said. His stomach heaved with every breath he took, but he couldn’t stop himself from speaking. “We were just trying to set up camp for the night.”

The Keeper sniffed. “Assuming I believe you—”

“Which you should,” Nathaniel said, shifting as close to Anders as the guards would allow.

“There is still the matter of you intruding upon us.”

Anders wished his stomach wasn’t so uneasy. He wanted to argue with the Keeper, to tell her that their “intrusion” was the result of the Dalish, but he feared his words would vanish in a stream of vomit if he tried. There was also the fact that the guards looked remarkably skilled with their weapons.

“As reparations, you will help Velanna with her quest,” the Keeper said.

Anders glanced at Velanna. She looked even less happy than he felt. Nathaniel’s expression would have put a summer storm to shame.

“But Keeper,” Velanna said, clenching her fists.

“Don’t argue,” the Keeper said. “You were eager enough for the quest. You’ll accept my terms for it.”

Velanna sighed. “I—I understand.” She gestured for Nathaniel and Anders to follow her. She pointed to a space between two tents. “You can set up there. We’ll leave at dawn. I’ll explain then.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some fluff for Valentine's Day with very little plot advancement.

“Are you sure you don’t want my help?” Anders said as Nathaniel fought with the tent he’d retrieved from his pack. It really was a good thing he’d brought it, Anders thought, since the Dalish were uninclined to share their tents with their human “guests”.

“Because you obviously got a lot of practice pitching tents in the tower,” Nathaniel said as he hammered a peg into the ground. The tent slumped forward, landing on Nathaniel’s head.

“I might not know as much about tents as you, but aren’t they supposed to look more vertical?” Anders said with a snort.

Nathaniel ignored him and continued his wrestling match with the tent. When he finally managed to pitch it, Anders was so shocked that he considered contacting the Chantry to inform them that the Maker had returned.

“Where’s the other one?” Anders said. His vision might have been blurry, but he was pretty sure Nathaniel had only set up one tent.

“What other one?” Nathaniel said, clearly insulted by the lack of accolades for setting up one tent.

“There’s two of us,” Anders said, leaning to one side. “Two. An’ that’s a pretty small tent. So there should be another one, shouldn’t there?”

“I only brought one,” Nathaniel said. Judging by the tone of his voice, he hadn’t considered that particular detail until Anders had mentioned it.

“Oh.” Anders looked around him. The ground wasn’t so bad, he guessed. At least it was a warm night. “Okay.”

Nathaniel paused outside the tent. “Aren’t you coming?”

Anders half-crawled, half-dragged himself to the tent.

“Please try not to knock it over,” Nathaniel said as he laid out the bedroll. It was, by Anders’ estimation, a little small to contain the both of them. Nathaniel pulled off his boots and gestured for Anders to do the same. He crawled into the bedroll. After a moment’s pause he said, “Aren’t you going to bed?”

“Oh! Uh, yes.” Taking care to move slowly enough that he wouldn’t knock the tent over, Anders crawled into the bedroll.

Nathaniel was warm. Anders had shared beds with people in the tower, but none of them seemed as warm as Nathaniel. Every accidental brush of skin seemed as comforting as a campfire. He tried not to think of the fact that, were it not for the size of the bedroll, there would be far less touching. The bedroll, which had already seemed small, was even smaller with the two of them. The only way for them to both fit was if they laid on their sides, leaving Nathaniel pressed up against Anders’ back. Anders could feel Nathaniel’s breath against his neck, and it took all his willpower to not press himself against Nathaniel further.

“Hey,” he said, eyes fluttering closed. “It’s not such a bad thing that I’m not in a Circle, is it?”

Nathaniel’s hand rested on Anders’ hip for the briefest moment before disappearing. Anders wondered if he’d tucked it behind his back.

Nathaniel said, “I guess not. You were useful when we fought that bear.”

“I try,” Anders said, wishing his heart didn’t feel so heavy. Nathaniel had said he was useful; what more did he want? It was all he was going to get. He should be happy.

“I enjoy your presence, Anders,” Nathaniel said, his nose just barely brushing against Anders’ hair.

Anders smiled and snuggled a centimetre closer to Nathaniel. It wasn’t much, but he’d take it. As he began to fall asleep, he noticed that Nathaniel’s hand was on his hip once more.


	5. Chapter 5

When Anders awoke, something was pressing into his back. Considering one of Nathaniel’s hands still rested on his hip and the other had become entangled in his hair at some point in the night, that really only left him with a few options. Anders, sensing the potential awkwardness of the situation, tried to squirm away, but Nathaniel’s grip on his hip tightened.

“If you’re sure,” Anders muttered, thinking there were worse ways to spend a morning. His head had been replaced with a mass of pain, and his stomach had formally declared its intention to secede from his body. His mouth tasted like something had died inside of it. He would have been utterly miserable if not for Nathaniel’s presence.

Which, of course, only guaranteed that that angry elf—Velanna, wasn’t it?—would storm into their tent, waking Nathaniel. For a wonderful moment, Nathaniel kept his hand on Anders’ hip. Then Nathaniel seemed to realise what he was doing. In a flash, Anders was left bereft of all bodily contact. He could have done that without pulling my hair, Anders mentally groused. With a groan that seemed to encapsulate the history and future of human agony, Anders wriggled out of the bedroll.

Nathaniel was facing the far corner of the tent, undoubtedly collecting himself before he faced a virtual stranger. When he turned to face them, Nathaniel made a point to avoid looking at Anders.

If Anders felt worse for that, it was only a cup of water dumped into a sea of misery. He pulled on his boots and ignored the bile rising in his throat.

Velanna said, "I was beginning to wonder if shemlen slept all day. Now that you're finally up, we can get this over with."

"Are you going to tell us what we're expected to do?" Nathaniel said as he began packing the bedroll and tent.

"You're going to be irritable, and your friend will make pithy comments."

"Have you considered seeing someone about that lisp?" Anders said with a fraction of his typical good humour.

"See?" Velanna said with a huff.

"It's terrible, isn't it? I think he has a pathological need to say these things," Nathaniel said with a tiny smile.

Anders couldn't help but notice that the smile was directed at Velanna.

"We'll be travelling into the deepest part of the forest in search of an Elven artifact," Velanna said to Nathaniel.

"Please, don't feel pressured to include me in the conversation," Anders said under his breath. Weren't elves supposed to have superior hearing? He hoped she'd heard him.

If she had, she showed no indication. "Are you ready? Good."

She turned on her heel and marched through the camp, leaving them to scramble to keep pace with her.

"Your ears are looking lovely today. I don't know what you've done, but they seem especially pointy," Nathaniel said once they'd caught up.

Velanna made a noise like a strangled hawk. "If you're trying to insult me, you'll have to try better than that."

"I only meant," Nathaniel began, but stopped. "Have I mentioned that I like mages? It’s always a pleasure to see one free from the Circles."

It was too much. The sun seemed to have a vendetta against Anders, and they were moving far too quickly. All this combined with Nathaniel's blatant lie and upset his stomach further.  Before he had a chance to stop himself, he threw up on Nathaniel.

Nathaniel stopped in his tracks. "Well done, mage."

"Sorry," Anders said, stomach still heaving.

Nathaniel called to Velanna, "Is there any chance we could stop by a stream? I'd like to take care of this."

Anders wanted to cry. His head felt ready to explode, and vomiting had only provided temporary relief for his stomach. And now Nathaniel was mad at him. Perfect.

They stopped by a stream, a small thing with barely enough water to wash one's hands.

Velanna stood on the other side of the stream while Nathaniel cleaned the sick off himself. Anders stood off to the side and attempted to heal himself.

Once he was feeling better he said, "So, about this morning."

"What about it?" Nathaniel said, stepping out of the water.

"I couldn't help but notice you had a reaction to being near me," Anders said with a hopeful smile. "You wouldn't even let me move away."

"That never happened," Nathaniel said brusquely. "Forget about it."

"Oh," Anders said, nausea returning. Obviously it was just taking longer than usual for the healing spell to take effect. "Right. Never happened."

Nathaniel strode past him to be by Velanna's side. Anders waited until they were several feet ahead to start walking, and he made sure to keep his pace leisurely.

"I enjoy your presence, Anders," he said in a mockery of Nathaniel's voice. "Right. Just not enough to admit it in the daylight."

He kicked a boulder and immediately regretted it as pain blossomed in his foot. At least he could pretend his bad mood came from that instead of Nathaniel's words.

Even in daylight, the woods seemed unnaturally dark and confining. The few slivers of sunlight that made it through the dense canopy of leaves were stale and almost worse than having no light at all. Anders, remembering his last experience walking through the woods on his own, swallowed his pride and rushed to catch up with Velanna and Nathaniel.

He rejoined the party just in time to hear Velanna laugh, albeit begrudgingly, at something Nathaniel said. He knew it was petty, but he couldn’t help rolling his eyes at their newfound friendliness.

“Are we getting close to it?” he said loudly, not caring that he’d interrupted Nathaniel mid-sentence.

Velanna sniffed as though his question had deeply offended her. “We should be coming upon it soon enough, if your question didn’t attract every predator in the area.”

“Shit,” Anders said as he found himself unable to move. “My robe’s caught on a branch. Why couldn’t they have hidden the artifact in the city?”

Velanna rolled her eyes as Nathaniel helped Anders untangle his robe from the branch. She said, “Anyone could have seen that branch. It’s right there.  Is he always such an idiot?”

“He’s not an idiot,” Nathaniel said. Perhaps realising how quickly he’d jumped to Anders’ defence, he added, with very little feeling, “He’s a moron.”

“I’m not injured,” Anders said, straightening up.

“I’m aware,” Nathaniel said, still kneeling at Anders’ feet.

“Then why do you keep stroking my ankle?”

“I wasn’t,” he said, yanking his hand away as though Anders’ flesh was a red-hot poker. “We’d better catch up with Velanna.”

They arrived in a small clearing several minutes later. The amulet, all gold and glittering gems, lay in the middle of the grass, sending darts of coloured light around the area.

“Granted, I haven’t been out of the tower long, but does this scream ‘trap’ to anyone else?”

“You might have a point,” Nathaniel said, stepping in front of Anders.

“Do we draw straws to see who gets possessed, then?” Velanna said with a snort.

“We could poke it with a stick,” Anders said, peeking over Nathaniel’s shoulder to look at the amulet. It looked so innocuous that it had to be sinister.

At that moment, a young man in Circle robes stumbled into the clearing. Despite the fact that both boots were laced, he tripped over his laces and landed on the amulet. There was a burst of purple light, and a desire demon appeared.

The mage moaned. "Maker, I think I broke something."

"Besides an ancient and historically valuable artifact?" Velanna said, apparently unaware of the demon in front of her.

"Can we argue later? There's kind of a demon right now," Anders said, inching backwards and pointing his staff at the demon.

Velanna huffed, but drew her staff and began shooting fireballs at the demon.

"Nathaniel? I can't attack the demon if you keep standing in front of me," Anders said. Nathaniel didn't seem to hear him. When he tried to move to the side, Nathaniel moved to block him once more. "Okay... I'll just stay here and heal everyone, I guess."

“Could you try not to hit me?” the mage said, still lying on the ground.

“You could try moving,” Nathaniel said, loosing a stream of  arrows. The demon deflected them as though they were flies.

Velanna stopped shooting fireballs. Within seconds, the trees came to life and began attacking the demon. Each movement the trees made was accompanied by a horrific creaking sound as the wood bent in unnatural ways. Anders had to jump out of the way to avoid being squashed by one of the trees. He was pretty sure that encounter had cost him ten years of his life.

The desire demon sent out a burst of lightning. It arced through the air, striking Nathaniel, who crumpled to the ground. Anders knelt next to him and began casting a healing aura.

“No,” he whispered, breaths coming short and shallow. “You can’t die. I won’t let you. I’ve healed worse than this; I can heal you…”

He was so engrossed in healing Nathaniel that he didn’t notice that the desire demon had fallen. Nathaniel’s eyes fluttered open and he propped himself up on one arm.

“What are you doing, mage?”

Anders was suddenly overcome with exhaustion. He gasped, “Healing you, of course.”

Nathaniel stood. “You’ve done a good job. Can you stand?”

“I can also speak and perform magic tricks,” Anders said, his vision blacking out temporarily. Evidently he’d used more mana than he’d thought.

“You might consider standing now, then.”

After two tries, Anders managed to stand. His legs gave immediately after, and he found himself scooped into Nathaniel’s arms. He said, “You’re awfully strong, aren’t you?”

“I use a longbow. It takes years of training to be able to draw the string, let alone use it. I have to be strong,” Nathaniel said. “We can’t all be squishy and shoot fireballs at people.”

“I’m not squishy,” Anders said, more to himself than to Nathaniel.

Velanna picked up the amulet between her index finger and thumb like it was a dead rat rather than an artifact. She said, “I’m not carrying the other one.”

The mage finally stood and dusted himself off. Anders blinked. Even through the fog of exhaustion, he remembered the mage's name. “Jowan? How’d you get out of the tower?”

Jowan looked ready to faint. “Connie helped me get out. I don’t know what happened to her. Last I heard, she’d taken up with a Grey Warden.”

“Good for her, I guess,” Anders said. He had vague memories of Connie; he’d seen her signing with some of her friends in the library. He’d always meant to learn some signs to talk to her. “Would you like to come along with us?”

“I don’t think--” Nathaniel began.

“Thank you, but I’m actually on my way to Redcliffe,” Jowan said.

“Good luck,” Anders said. “Try to avoid the Templars.”

Jowan nodded and shuffled past them.

“I can see why human mages aren’t allowed out of their towers,” Velanna said. “Let’s get back to the camp.”

Velanna walked several paces ahead of them, not even slowing when Nathaniel paused to adjust his grip on Anders.

“Nathaniel?” Anders said, still groggy from depleting his mana.

“Yes, Anders?” Nathaniel said almost tenderly.

“I’m not sure your new girlfriend would approve of you having your hand on my arse.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Nathaniel said. Anders couldn’t help but notice that his hand remained in its new position.

“Why not? You get along well enough. Afraid of shaming your family further?”

“I’d suggest you stop talking before I drop you,” Nathaniel said as they approached the camp.

“Ma vhenan!” a Dalish woman cried, running to Velanna.

“Philomela,” Velanna said, embracing her.

“I was so worried when you left without a proper party,” Philomela said, kissing Velanna. “What if something had happened to you?”

Velanna’s expression softened. “It’d take more than death to keep me from you.”

“Oh,” Anders said, definitely not cringing at the memory of his words to Nathaniel.  “I see now.”

The Keeper walked over to them and said, “Did you find the artifact?”

Velanna nodded and presented it to her.

“Out of curiosity, are all Dalish artifacts possessed by demons?” Anders said.

The Keeper turned to them and handed Nathaniel a small leather pouch. Her expression clearly stated that she didn’t find the question worthy of her attention. “You’ve fulfilled your obligation. You may go in peace.”

“Thank you,” Nathaniel said.

As Nathaniel carried him out of the camp, Anders said, “There’s nothing wrong with liking the same sex, you know.”

“And you bring this up because?”

“Well, I was just trying to say… If you do like men, there’s nothing wrong with it.” He added, “I like men. And women. And maybe alcohol, once I’ve got used to it.”

"That might be fine for you, but some of us have a family reputation to uphold," Nathaniel said. "And I don't like men."

“That’s interesting, because I’m only completely sure that there are ways to support me that don’t involve grabbing my arse,” Anders said.

“I will drop you,” Nathaniel said, but didn’t move his hand or show any signs of actually planning to drop Anders.

Anders looked up at Nathaniel. “Listen. I’m starting to get a good idea of what’s going on--”

“I sincerely doubt that.”

“And I just want to say that anyone who wants to control or demean you based on the way you were born doesn’t deserve a place in your life,” Anders concluded. “They might not deserve a place in Thedas.”

“Thank you for that inspiring speech, but there was no need for it. I don’t like men,” Nathaniel said. “Please let this die.”

“Whatever you want,” Anders said. “Really. Whatever you want.”


	6. Chapter 6

They arrived at an inn that evening. By that time, Nathaniel had conceded to let Anders walk again, though he insisted on scouting each new area before letting Anders follow him into it.

“I don’t need the only healer around to injure himself,” he’d said when questioned about it.

The inn had what the truly optimistic would call “rustic charm”. Dead animals who looked like they’d suffered from both mange and rabies before their demise decorated the walls and every available surface. Between the six patrons in the main area, they had eleven teeth, and there was a general atmosphere that indicated it would only be a matter of time before someone started accusing Nathaniel and Anders of being city folk, a crime worse than murder in the patrons’ eyes.

“You know,” Anders said brightly, like thin ice in the sunlight, “I think I’d actually be fine if we slept in the tent again.”

“I thought you were sick of the cold ground,” Nathaniel said.

“It must have been a temporary sickness. I am completely fine with the cold ground now,” Anders said, tugging on Nathaniel’s hand. “Let’s go, before they do something unsanitary.”

“You’ll be fine. It’s not like they’ll make you clean out the spitoon,” Nathaniel said. “Besides, we have enough coin to spare for a room for the night.”

Anders sighed. Nathaniel had clearly made up his mind. He was about to resign himself to a night of terror when he noticed a lovely young woman exit the kitchen. Her hair fell in chestnut curls, and--praise the Maker--she had all her teeth, as far as he could tell. He put on his most charming smile and sauntered over to her.

“I’m stopping by for the night, and I was wondering if you knew of anything in the way of entertainment here,” Anders said. “And might I just say, your hair is absolutely stunning?”

The girl smiled. “I can think of a few things that could entertain you. Do you have a room for the night?”

Nathaniel appeared at Anders’ side. “Yes,” he said, glowering at her. “We do.”

She looked from Anders to Nathaniel and back again. “Oh. Well, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of entertainment tonight, anyway.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Anders said as she left, glaring up at Nathaniel.

Nathaniel simply said, “I got us a room.”

There was only one bed. When Anders mentioned this fact, Nathaniel simply said, "It cost more for two beds. You've already spent enough money during this quest."

As they took off their boots, Anders began removing his robes and said, "It's awfully warm in here, isn't it?"

"I hadn't noticed."

Anders climbed into bed. After a moment's hesitation, Nathaniel followed him.

"You don't need to wear your armour," Anders said. "I can't imagine that's comfortable."

"I'm plenty comfortable," Nathaniel said.

"Suit yourself."

Anders noticed something glowing in the corner. "Nathaniel? I think there's something looking at me."

Nathaniel sighed. "It's probably just one of the taxidermied animals hidden around the inn."

"Will you go check?"

"If it will shut you up," Nathaniel said, climbing out of bed and walking across the room. He picked up the culprit and brandished it at Anders. "See?"

It was impossible to tell what animal it used to be. The few patches of fur that desperately clung to the creature gave no hint as to what it had been in life, and its body was distorted beyond recognition. How Nathaniel managed to hold it without screaming was beyond Anders' knowledge.  

"There's no way I can sleep with that thing in the room."

Nathaniel said, "What do you want me to do, throw it out the window?"

"Could you?"

Nathaniel muttered something, but opened the window and tossed it out. Getting back into bed, "Can you sleep now?"

"Maybe. Will you hold me?"

"Don't push your luck, mage," Nathaniel said, scooting closer to Anders.

Anders had nearly fallen asleep when he heard a knock on the door.

"Stay here, and don't make a sound," Nathaniel said as he went to answer it. He cracked the door open and said, "Can I help you?"

A voice like a grindstone said, "We're searching for a runaway mage, and we’ve tracked him to this inn. Blond, probably wearing muddy robes. Keeps his hair in a ponytail. Have you seen him?"

In the bed, Anders struggled to keep his breaths even. His heart pounded so loudly that he was sure the people downstairs could hear it.

"Are you accusing Arl Howe's son of harbouring fugitive mages?" Nathaniel said in his most imperious voice.

"No, of course not," the Templar simpered. "But may I ask who's in the bed with you?"

"Is it your business if I take up with a serving wench?"

Anders praised the Maker that he was turned to face the window. Only his hair was visible, lending some credence to Nathaniel's lie.

The Templar said, "Apologies for bothering you, messere. If you see the mage--"

"You'll be the first to know," Nathaniel said, shutting the door.

"Maker," Anders breathed. "I could kiss you for that."

"Please refrain," Nathaniel said.

"So," Anders said with an impish smile. "I'm your serving wench?"

"Did you want me to tell him the truth?" Nathaniel said, pulling the covers up to his chin.

"I'll be your serving wench," Anders said with a yawn.

The door slammed open before the sun rose.

"Which one of yer threw Bettina out the window?" The innkeeper shouted.

"You named that thing?" Anders said, rubbing his eyes.

"I think we've overstayed our welcome," Nathaniel said. "Get dressed, Anders. We'll see ourselves out."

Anders hurriedly pulled on his robes and followed Nathaniel out of the room. The innkeeper looked ready to chase after them with a pitchfork.

Once they were a safe distance from the inn, they slowed their pace. The sky had darkened, and rain lazily dripped down on them.

"Do you think we should find shelter?" Anders said. So that was what rain felt like. He'd forgotten after so long in the tower. It was warm, almost soothing.

"No, it's just a--"

At that moment, the sky unleashed its fury in a torrent of rain and lightning. Within seconds, they were drenched.

"Drizzle," Nathaniel said in a tone much drier than he was. "There's a cave ahead. We can stay there until the storm passes."

They ran across the muddy field and entered the cave. It was dark and dank, but at least it wasn't actively dripping water on them. With a command, Anders made the tip of his staff light up.

A jolt of panic surged through him as he realised the walls of the cave were much closer than he'd anticipated. It was far too similar to the walls of Kinloch Hold, forever stifling and confining. Nathaniel gave him a strange look, and he forced himself to smile.

"Ah, just like home," he said with a strained chuckle.

"I'm sure this tunnel comes out on the other side of the hill. Let's keep walking," Nathaniel said.

And so they walked further into the blackness, bringing only momentary light to the cavern.

After two hours of walking, Anders said, "That hill didn't look especially large. Are you sure we're going the right way?"

"Of course we're going the right way."

"Could I look at the map?"

"Trust me. I know where we're going, and we're definitely going the right way," Nathaniel said, shifting so Anders couldn't reach into his pack.

They walked further, descending into the tunnel. As they walked, Anders noticed strange red-black growths on the rocks. After an immeasurable amount of time wandering down passage after passage, they reached a stone city. By the looks of it, nobody had lived there for quite a while. While the presence of the city should have comforted Anders, it only served to remind him of how trapped he felt under those miles of rock. His breaths came short and shallow, and he could feel tears prickling in his eyes.

Nathaniel cupped his chin gently, as though he feared he would break Anders with a stronger touch. "Are you okay?"

"Just fine," Anders said with a strained smile.

Nathaniel leaned in and pressed his lips against Anders'. Anders' heart felt like singing, leaping, it felt like an emptiness he'd never known existed had been filled... and then, as suddenly as the kiss began, it ended. He leaned forward for more, but Nathaniel moved away.

Nathaniel said, "I won't let anything happen to us."

They held hands as they entered the abandoned city. Every so often Nathaniel would squeeze Anders’ hand, a gentle reminder that he wasn’t alone. Anders’ heart was beating madly, though he couldn’t tell if it was from the cavern or the kiss.

There was a sound like claws scrabbling on rock. They jumped in unison, still holding hands.

“I’m gong to investigate. Stay here,” Nathaniel said. Upon seeing Anders’ expression, he added,“Or you can join me.”

They crept towards the source of the sound, ready to defend themselves against whatever monstrosity awaited them.

It was a kitten, little more than a lump of orange striped fur. Its eyes gleamed in the light of Anders’ staff, and it came bounding over.

“Look at him,” Anders cooed as he picked up the kitten. “Oh, the poor thing must have got lost in here. Can we keep him?”

“What would we do with a cat?” Nathaniel said, obviously trying not to smile.

“Cuddle him. Play with him. The possibilities are endless!” Anders nuzzled the kitten. “I’ll call you Ser Pounce-a-lot.”

“I take this to mean we’re stuck with the cat,” Nathaniel said. “If he pees on my bedroll, he’s sleeping outside.”

Ser Pounce-a-lot climbed onto Anders’ shoulder and stayed there as they ventured further into the city. It must have been abandoned for centuries; the stone walls had begun to crumble and the strange, almost fleshy growths had taken over some of the buildings.

“Where are we?” Anders said as the newly named Ser Pounce-a-lot attempted to stick his paw in Anders’ mouth.

Nathaniel became very interested in one of the decrepit walls. He mumbled, “Wemightbelost.”

“Pardon?”

“We’re lost,” Nathaniel said as if each word that left his mouth dragged a tooth out with it.

Were the walls growing closer? Anders shifted his staff so that the light was directed ahead of them. There was no visible exit ahead. Where had all the oxygen gone? He was going to die in here; nobody would even know what happened to him--

Nathaniel squeezed his free shoulder “Don’t worry. Any one of these passages will lead to the surface, and we’ll be out in no time.”

Anders tried to reply, but his words jumbled together into an inarticulate noise of distress.

Ser Pounce-a-lot pressed his nose to Anders’ cheek. The cold, wet sensation provided a temporary distraction from his worries. Anders took a deep, shaky breath.

“We’ll be fine,” he said with a laugh that just barely stayed on the right side of hysterical. “Nathaniel? I can’t move my legs.”

“Do you need me to carry you?” Nathaniel said, peering into Anders’ eyes.

“No… I think I’m stuck.” Anders attempted to lift his leg; it was glued to the ground by something that looked like a massive spiderweb.

At that moment, a horde of giant spiders descended on them.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

"You sure know how to show a guy a good time," Anders said, shooting bolts of lightning at the spiders. "Do you do this for all your dates?"

Nathaniel said, "Only when I want to impress them."

The battle seemed hopeless. For every spider they cut down, two more appeared in its place. Anders knew his mana was almost drained; he estimated that he only had a few more spells left in him. Nathaniel's supply of arrows was in just as dire a state.

Just as all hope seemed lost, a small army of dwarves rushed out of one of the tunnels and began slaughtering the spiders. When the battle was done, the leader approached them.

"Get lost?" He said, strapping his axe onto his back.

"Thank you for your help," Nathaniel replied.

Anders noticed the webbing holding him in place had dissolved. He approached them and grabbed Nathaniel's hand. To his delight, Nathaniel didn't move away.

"Do you know where we are, exactly?" He said, wishing he could make himself sound calmer. His voice was an octave higher than usual.

"One of the abandoned thaigs," the dwarf replied. "I'm guessing you wandered in here from one of the entrances on the surface."

"We're trying to get to the Brecilian Forest. Do you know the way there?" Anders said over the sound of his heart in his ears.

"I do," a female voice piped up. "I can take you there, if you want."

"Maker, yes," Anders said a little too hurriedly.

The owner of the voice stepped forward and smiled up at them. "Come on, then. It's a long trip, so we can't waste time."

She led them down one of the indistinguishable passages, talking the entire time. "I'm Sigrun. We don't see many topsiders, especially in this area. Who are you?"

"I'm Nathaniel, and this is my--Anders."

"You're such a cute couple," Sigrun said.

"We're not--" Nathaniel began.

"You're not official yet? Well, don't wait! Life's too short, you know," Sigrun said. Her voice was like a flute solo, all chipper notes and brightness.

"Right," Nathaniel said. "If this area is abandoned, why were you in it?"

"I'm one of the Legion of the Dead. We seek out these places."

"For what?" Anders said.

"To throw parties, of course." Sigrun gestured for them to follow her into a small tunnel--little more than a crawl space, really.

"You're joking," Anders said as his knees lost their ability to bend.

"About the parties? Of course I am."

"We don't really have to go in there, do we?"

"Well, no. You could stay in the Deep Roads forever, if you want," Sigrun said with a shrug.

"You'll be okay, Anders. Remember what I said?" Nathaniel whispered, pushing a stray strand of hair out of Anders' face.

"You'd leave me behind if I mentioned birds?" Anders said with a weak smile.

"I won't let anything happen to us." He leaned in before pulling away quickly.

Anders nodded and let himself be led into the tunnel.

As they walked, Nathaniel let go of Anders' hand in favour of wrapping his arm around his waist. The tunnel was barely wide enough for them to walk side by side, but they managed to do it.

Nathaniel whispered to him the entire time. While Anders was too preoccupied with the sense of impending confinement to catch most of it, he was fairly certain he'd heard the word "protect" several times.

"We'll make camp here," Sigrun said. Presumably it was nightfall, but how could anyone tell under the miles of rock?

Anders considered protesting, but he knew it was no use. As much as he hated the cavern, he was too exhausted to go further that day.

Nathaniel pitched their tent, and they crawled inside. Ser Pounce-a-lot claimed the pillow the moment the tent closed.

Anders smiled. "Will I wake up to another surprise tomorrow?"

"I don't know what you mean," Nathaniel said stiffly.

"You had an erection. Stop pretending it didn't happen. I mean, I can't blame you--sexually repressed noble, devilishly handsome mage--it was bound to happen."

"Shut up, mage."

Anders' smile grew wider and more genuine. "Make me."

Nathaniel lunged forward, crushing his lips against Anders'. While their first kiss was tender and comforting, this kiss was all frustration and passion jumbled in a combination of lips and grasping hands. Nathaniel tugged the tie out of Anders' hair and threaded his fingers through the golden locks.

Anders broke the kiss. "Are you going to deny this tomorrow?"

Nathaniel tried to kiss him again, but he moved his head away. Nathaniel said, "Don't worry about the future, Anders."

"I think I'm allowed to if that future involves you being ashamed of me."

"I'm not ashamed of you," Nathaniel said, releasing his grip on Anders' hair and staring at his lap. "It's...complicated. You make it less so. I feel like it's not wrong when I'm with you."

"That's because it isn't wrong," Anders said. "But if you promise not to outright deny it tomorrow, then we can continue."

"I promise," Nathaniel said.

They resumed the kiss, clutching onto each other like their lives depended on the physical contact. As the kiss continued, Nathaniel guided Anders onto his back.

"I guess I don't have to wait till morning for the surprise," Anders said with a snort that turned into a gasp as Nathaniel ground against him. He'd been fairly active before escaping the Circle, but Nathaniel made him feel like it'd been years since his last dalliance. They stripped into their smallclothes before resuming the kiss.

"Maker, Nate," Anders said in between gasps.

Nathaniel sucked on the juncture of Anders' neck and shoulder before peppering Anders' torso with kisses. Anders ran his fingers down Nathaniel’s spine, eliciting a groan punctuated by a particularly forceful thrust against his hip.

They continued kissing and grinding against each other until they were sated.

"We'll have to clean these," Anders remarked as he peeled off his damp smallclothes.

"Later," Nathaniel said, motioning for him to crawl into the bedroll. When Anders did, he kissed him once more. "Good night, Anders."

"Morning, lovebirds," Sigrun chirped as they exited the tent, straightening their clothes.

Nathaniel looked at Anders and cleared his throat. "Good morning."

"We can probably make it to the exit if we leave now."

"Please, let's go," Anders said.

They trekked through the tunnel, Sigrun leading while Nathaniel and Anders walked with their arms intertwined.

Sigrun stopped suddenly, causing them to bump into her. She gestured at a stone door that was just visible against the rest of the stone. "This should take you where you want to go. Remember, don't wait too long to make it official."

Anders was out the door the moment they opened it. The fresh air felt like water in a desert, and he could have wept at the sight of the sky.

"Would you like to join us? We're going to slay a dragon," Nathaniel said to Sigrun.

"Thanks, but no. Even dead dwarves don't go on the surface," she said. "Good luck."

As she walked back into the tunnel, Nathaniel said to Anders, "You mentioned you got information from that dwarf in the pub. Now would be a good time to share it."


	8. Chapter 8

The ruins were, as far as Anders could tell, the remains of a Dalish temple. It was easy to imagine how grand the building must have been when it was whole, with polished stone and elegent carvings. He wondered if it would be possible to lure the dragon out of the cave next to them. What could they use as bait? The area was devoid of sheep, and he was pretty sure they’d have trouble convincing a princess to aid them in this particular venture.

“Ready?” Nathaniel said, drawing his bow.

“Do we really have to do this?” Anders said even as he followed Nathaniel into the cave.

“It’s the only way.”

They crept down the only passage large enough to house a dragon, stepping carefully over piles of rubble and potential traps. Could dragons even set traps? Anders imagined one trying to prepare a bear trap, and smiled a little.

They reached the dragon's lair. Even from their relatively distant position, it was clear the dragon was asleep, a fact about to be changed by the approaching sound of clanging armour.

"Thought you could use my help," the dwarf--Oggie? Oghrul? Oghren--said in a voice that echoed through the cave.

"Keep it down," Nathaniel hissed. "You'll wake the dragon."

"Let it wake! I'll have it coughing up its innards!"

"Are you drunk, or do you just always smell like a dirty tavern?" Anders said, wrinkling his nose. His copious alcohol consumption had done wonders to erase the memory of Oghren's stench, which had now returned with the force of a charging ogre.

Oghren belched in response.

"I'm not sure you should be wielding a weapon," Nathaniel said.

"Don't be ridic'lous. I'm the best warrior in Orzammar," Oghren said, swaying slightly.

"Maybe you should go back there," Anders said.

"Can't. They wouldn't accept me now that I've gone topside." For a moment he looked so dejected that Anders considered accepting him into the group. Then he bellowed, "Let's slay us a dragon!"

The dragon woke with a roar and a burst of fire which narrowly missed them. Anders' hands were shaking so much he could barely aim his staff at the dragon, and Nathaniel’s jaw was clenched so hard that it wouldn’t be surprising if he had cracked teeth after the battle. The only one who seemed unperturbed by the dragon was Oghren. He rushed towards it, screaming something about it being a good day for someone else to die, and began swinging his axe wildly. More often than not, he missed entirely, but when he did strike the dragon, it was a grievous blow to the creature.

The battle seemed to drag on for an eternity, and Anders’ nerves had gone from frayed to completely unravelled, especially as he spent most of his time trying to keep Ser Pounce-a-lot out of danger. When the dragon collapsed to the ground, he wanted to cry from relief.

Oghren walked over, spitting out scales. “We should do that again.”

“You bit it?” Anders said, using his staff for support.

“And I’d do it again!”

“Dwarf,” Nathaniel said.

“Human,” Oghren replied.

“Could you chop off one of its claws? I need it as proof.”

“What would you give me?”

Nathaniel pinched the bridge of his nose. “You get first pick of the dragon’s hoard.”

“You got yourself a deal.”

Oghren tottered off, laden with his choice of the treasure. He passed out just outside of the cave’s entrance. After Nathaniel and Anders had grabbed as much of the treasure as they could reasonably carry, they walked back into the forest.

“You know,” Nathaniel said, “My father might have need for a mage in his household. I’m sure he could pull a few strings to keep the Templars away.”

Anders blinked. “You want me to go with you to Amaranthine?”

“I’d be honoured to have you join me.”

Anders leaned forward and kissed Nathaniel.

Nathaniel smiled. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”

* * *

 

The Howe estate, which in truth lay just outside of Amaranthine proper, was like a marble apple. It was beautiful to look at, but all the sweetness and vibrancy was absent. The guard at the entrance nearly dropped his sword when he saw them approach.

“Messere Howe,” he said in a voice like old oil in a frying pan. “We weren’t expecting your return so soon. I’ll announce your arrival.”

Anders snorted as he noticed the crest on the man’s armour. As the guard scurried off to announce them, Anders said, “So, that’s your family crest? _Howe’s_ that for a surprise?”

“Really, Anders?” Nathaniel said, shaking his head.

“I can _bear_ -ly believe it,” Anders said before laughing at his own joke.

“Maker save me,” Nathaniel groaned.

The guard came running back. “Arl Howe will see you now.”

Arl Howe smiled as they entered the room. At least, the corners of his mouth turned up. He smiled like something that lurked in dark forests.

He said, “Nathaniel, welcome back. I trust you’ve learned your lesson?”

Nathaniel bowed and presented the dragon’s claw. “I have, father.”

“And who is this?”

Nathaniel straightened his spine and said in a voice devoid of emotion, “This is my friend, Anders. He helped me along the way, and I believe he deserves a reward.”

Anders couldn’t stop himself from smiling and waving at Arl Howe. He opened his mouth to speak, but Nathaniel stepped on his foot.

“A mage? My, that must have been some journey,” he said with a sneer before adding, “Very well. I’m sure he can do something for the estate.”

That night, Arl Howe arranged a tour of the estate for Anders and a small feast in Nathaniel’s honour. Nathaniel’s sister, Delilah, seemed delighted at her brother’s return, but the youngest sibling, Thomas, was entirely uninterested in Nathaniel’s adventure.

As the feast wore on, Nathaniel leaned over to whisper in Anders’ ear, “Come to my chambers at midnight.”

A chill ran down Anders’ spine, and he nodded.

After the feast, Anders spent his time soaking in the tub the servants had prepared for him. He’d never had a chance to truly enjoy a bath in Kinloch Hold; there were too many mages for anyone to spend longer than necessary in the tubs. He stayed in the tub, warming the water with his magic until midnight grew near.

Where was Nathaniel’s room, again? Anders roamed the halls until he found a door that looked vaguely familiar. He knocked gently, praying he’d found the right room.

Nathaniel opened the door and smiled at him. It was the kind of smile that could inspire a man to start a holy war. “Come inside, quickly.”

The moment he’d shut the door, Nathaniel was upon him. He seemed determined to kiss every inch of Anders’ skin, as though he planned to memorize Anders’ body with his mouth.

“You’re wearing far too many clothes,” Nathaniel said, voice husky.

“I could say the same of you,” Anders said. “But what about your father?”

“Fuck him.”

“I can think of a different Howe I’d rather fuck,” Anders said, kissing Nathaniel before he began stripping out of his robes.

Nathaniel guided him onto the bed and said, “Do you want this?”

“Maker, yes,” Anders said, pulling Nathaniel down for another kiss. Nathaniel broke away to push down their smallclothes; he then took a step back.

“You’re beautiful,” he said before resuming his quest to map Anders’ body with his mouth.

If Anders had felt complete after their first kiss, it was nothing compared to this. Nathaniel kissed his way down Anders’ body, stopping at his hips.

“Anders,” he whispered. He made the name sound like a prayer.

Anders arched his back as Nathaniel began sucking his dick. It felt like his discovery of magic all over again, exhilaration and bliss burning under his skin. Just as he felt his orgasm nearing, Nathaniel pulled away.

“Anders,” he said, fingers ghosting over the mage’s hips. “May I take you?”

“Anywhere but the bloody Circle,” Anders said, glib to hide the geyser of emotions that threatened to burst from his heart. One word in particular kept running through his mind, and he was terrified of what would happen if he said it.

Nathaniel turned to his bedside table and fished out a pot of oil.

“Thought about this often?” Anders said with a smirk.

“What do you think led to my quest?” Nathaniel said, greasing up his fingers.

“Oh.” He clutched the sheets as Nathaniel began stretching him. _“Oh.”_

It was like someone had corralled his thoughts and made them docile; all that mattered was Nathaniel’s beautiful, perfect fingers and then they were gone and something else took their place and how could anyone say the Maker had abandoned Thedas when something as perfect as this could happen?

Anders knew he was babbling as Nathaniel thrust inside of him, but he didn’t have the presence of mind to sort through what he was saying. It wasn’t until he reached completion that he realised he’d been repeating variations of “I love you” the entire time.

Nathaniel finished and pulled out of him. Anders smiled shakily. Hopefully Nathaniel had been too distracted to pay attention to his litany. “Well, that was fun.”

Nathaniel handed him a cloth from the washbasin on the bedside table. “Clean yourself up and get dressed. Make sure they don’t see you leave here.”

Anders nodded and began wiping away the evidence of their activities. When he was clothed again he said, “I suppose it’s silly to ask when we’ll see each other again, all things considered.”

“Sleep well,” Nathaniel said as Anders crept into the hallway.

Anders was so caught up in trying to sort out what had just happened that he didn’t notice Arl Howe standing in the hallway.

“Well,” Howe said, his voice all steel and malice. “I thought an escaped mage might be a bad influence on my son, but I didn’t know how much until now.”

Anders blinked. “You must be mistaken. We were just reminiscing over our adventure.”

“It must have been some reminiscing for you to look so bedraggled, and I had no idea you liked to repeat ‘I love you’ during normal conversation,” Howe said with a malicious smile. “Nathaniel has finally learned his lesson, and I won’t let you change that. You can’t honestly think he’d love a mage with no future.”

Anders shook his head, unable to speak past the lump in his throat.

With that, guards materialized in the hallway and led Anders to the courtyard, where a group of Templars awaited him.


	9. Chapter 9

Nathaniel awoke the next morning and, to his great surprise, did not feel ashamed. His past dalliance with a man, while satisfying at the time, had left him feeling miserable, and not just because it had led to his temporary exile. Getting lost on his way to the Brecilian Forest had been the happiest thing that had happened to him, and his heart leapt at the idea that he and Anders could have such encounters every night, with enough care and secrecy. And when he truly came into his inheritance, he wouldn't have to hide his love.

His good mood evaporated when he saw the cat wandering through the halls. He had practically been glued to Anders’ side since they’d found him; why was he by himself now? Nathaniel picked the cat up and walked, albeit quickly, to Anders’ room. When there was no response to his knocks on the door, he opened it. His heart froze as he realised the bed hadn’t been disturbed.

“Looking for someone?” his father said from behind him.

“The mage,” Nathaniel said in the carefully neutral voice he’d perfected from years of living with Arl Howe. “Where did he go?”

“He’s gone back to the Circle. He decided life out here didn’t suit him.” Arl Howe smiled, a sight about as pleasant as a piece of rotting meat. “Forget about him, Nathaniel. You’ve reclaimed your place in the family.”

“Of course,” Nathaniel said. Arl Howe nodded and walked away, leaving Nathaniel to stew in his thoughts. Anders had seemed sincere last night, and he’d made his thoughts on the Circle clear. He wouldn’t have left on his own, especially not for the Circle. There was only one thing Nathaniel could do.

Mind racing, he grabbed the cat and rushed to his chambers to fetch his pack. The cat climbed in without prompting, and Nathaniel ran to the stables. He couldn’t catch them on foot, that was certain. They’d probably been walking since dawn. Nathaniel saddled and mounted the fastest of the horses and set off in the direction they’d most likely left in.

He’d never rode faster in his life, and he was certain he looked ridiculous in his rumpled clothing and lack of shoes, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was rescuing Anders. How many Templars would he have to deal with?

As it turned out, the answer was ten. They completely surrounded Anders, who looked like he hadn’t even bothered trying to escape. His head was hung low, and he shuffled across the grass like a man on his way to the gallows.

Nathaniel yelled for them to halt. The Templars did so, though the leader said, “What authority do you have to interfere with our business?”

Nathaniel ignored the frantic beating of his heart and said, “That mage is the ward of Arl Howe. What authority do you have to take him?”

The leader snorted. “Arl Howe told us to take him. We’ve been tracking this one for weeks now.”

“Arl Howe changed his mind. Unless you want to argue with the Arl of Amaranthine…” Nathaniel said, hoping his tone was threatening enough.

“Is the Arl above the Chantry?” the leader sneered. "Shall we rewrite the Chant to accommodate his wishes?"

“This is ridiculous,” Nathaniel muttered. He urged the horse to charge forward, scooping Anders onto it as the Templars dove out of the way.

As they galloped off into the distance, Anders said, “You rescued me.”

“Of course,” Nathaniel said, urging the horse to move faster as the Templars collected themselves.

“Why?”

Nathaniel’s heart clenched. There were a million reasons he could give, but only one of them was the truth. “I love you, Anders.”

And even if they didn’t quite live happily ever after, they came pretty close to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Kari and everyone who's been reading it. You're all wonderful, and thank you for your interest in my silly fic.


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